


Interview With A Vampire

by TeenageCriminalMastermind



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Aro in a good mood!, Featuring, Gen, I wrote this at 1 AM do not judge me, Some very dumb decisions by the protagonists!, angst with a smattering of humour!, dinner befriends diner, friendships! - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-06-19 13:19:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeenageCriminalMastermind/pseuds/TeenageCriminalMastermind
Summary: Hunting Rule #1 - Never, ever, connect with your prey.AKADinner connects with diner, and things get super interesting (and weird).





	1. Meal, Interrupted

_**What a way to ruin things**_.

Empty tennis court at the edge of a fairly thick forest, the city having a reputation of predators wandering in the thick of said forest, lone person sitting at said tennis court - the perfect recipe for his dinner. All ruined by said person crying.

Demetri hates it when his prey cry - when they cry as they die is something he's accustomed himself to, but finding them crying? Nope. Not at all ideal.

She's sitting there, body wracked by sobs as she furiously paws at her eyes with sweatshirt-clad fists. He can hear the raspy rattle of her vocal cords as she heaves up another sob, the sound dying abruptly even though the pawing doesn't stop. Stifling the sound so that no one hears even when you came here to cry with the sole purpose of not being noticed - the self-loathing this person has practically walks itself to him in that one action.

He makes his way through the sides, keeping care to avoid her line of sight as he lowers himself next to her on the ground, leaning his head on the chain-link fence and drawing his knees close to his chest. She raises her head, red rimmed eyes warily sizing him up. _Must be in mid twenties at most, eighteen at the least_. "Sorry," she mutters, voice hoarse.

"Happens to the best of us," he offers. There's only animals in the vicinity, he's thirsty, and the nearest viable place to eat would be downtown where there's enough drunks to not be missed, so he decides to brave through the next few minutes to quench his thirst without much effort. "Boyfriend dumped you?" That's usually the cause with these age ones.

She shakes head, following the action with dry laughter. "God, no - nothing like that. I don't think I have ever been that attached to cry over them."

"School trouble?" He ventures. That causes her face to darken, all traces of laughter gone.

"My scholarship's not that hard to keep, I mean, people get 4.0's every year and yet here I am struggling -" _Oh gods, a rambler_. "Sorry - you don't need to hear about the sad excuse of a grad student that I am."

"Well, I did ask." He needs to just get her out of her distress to strike, and he'll be good.

"It's a competitive scholarship, and it pays very well, which it makes it possible for my parents to be able to pay for my brother's pre-law and law until he gets one. We're not exactly poor, but we aren't loaded, so it's that shitty middle where we're rich enough for FAFSA to be super stingy with the aid, but not rich enough to not have to worry about that crap. I have a GSI position that pays too, but my mental health is in shambles and I need to pay a decent amount every month just to keep myself from spiraling into the void of depression." She stops, suddenly breaking into quiet laughter.

"I've told you more than anyone else in my family knows, and you're like the second person in the whole wide world to not actually roll their eyes or sigh with boredom as I rattle off my sob story which isn't half as bad as other people. First was my therapist. Have tried talking to my parents once, but all I got was a toughen-up speech and a quick dismissal, which, let's face it, was expected."

He's lived long enough to see enough pain and misery to last the remainder of his existence, but the woman's seemingly careless attitude as she details what sounds like a rather miserable mental and emotional state tugs at whatever is left of humanity in him. It isn't of humans to treat their lives with such abandon, and her lack of self-respect makes him more sad than disgusted.

"What are you studying?" He finds himself asking, despite his very clear plan not to drag it out.

"Astronomy and engineering - aerospace to be precise for the latter. I love the fields, don't get me wrong, but sometimes it is a little too hard to deal with. Especially when they ask you to write and defend a thesis for them. My life plan is pretty clear - finish grad school, try and get a job at SpaceX or NASA or Boeing, and hopefully live the life I want to."

"That sounds like a pretty good deal." The wind's gotten colder, and she pulls up the hoodie of her sweatshirt and throws it over her head, toying with the cord of her headphones.

"Yeah, which is why the periodic thoughts of wanting to kill myself only make me hate myself more. Like I have it better than my parents did at this age, I have it the way I want, so why the fuck I would want to die should confound any sane human." Depression has existed back in the day when he was born, and it continues to still be a menace amongst the living and dead alike. "And it has been like this for over ten years - sometimes it was worse, mostly it was better. This is closer to the worse than better, because my shitty thoughts and my inaction is just creating a bigger and bigger mess."

"Well, you survived those years, and you'll survive this too - you don't seem like a quitter." The words just slip off his tongue, and he grits his teeth, groaning inwardly at the lie in the latter.

"Well, you aren't wrong about the first," her tone is a little less hopeless and she sounds like she might actually draw strength from what he just said. Something about that reminds him of him, a younger Demetri in a land much farther than the one he sits on, a Demetri that was much more naive and hopeful than the one now.

And against the dull ache of his throat slowly beginning to overshadow the thinking half of him, he smiles at her. "I know I'm right about the second as well." This time, she properly turns her head to look at him, and he studies the girl's features in the moonlight - beneath the mixture of worry and loathing there is still childlike innocence, and prominent amongst all of those, the fierce set of a survivor's jaw.

"Thank you." The words are whispered, and he's not sure if he was meant to hear them. Her voice is heavy with emotion, giving him some serious second thoughts about using this kid as his meal. _This is why you should never actually talk to your prey_. But it isn't just that.

This is one of the most meaningful conversations he has had in a while, and somewhere despite the magnitude of differences between the two of them, he has found common ground. The girl in front of him is scrappy, but a fighter - much like him at the start - and he would hate to not see what would become of her. _Besides, there's always a lecherous, abusive drunk to reduce from the world_ ; he'll find one of those to satiate himself.

So he turns and trains the full weight of his gaze on her, and leans forward to lend his words as much gravity as he can. "Go straight home, eat something comforting, watch something funny. And get away from here as fast as you can - it's bad to dwell among terrible memories. Leave." _Before something bad happens_.

She seems to take the unspoken hint and quickly gets on her feet, briskly heading off towards the nearby bus station. He pretends to fiddle on his phone until she is well on her way and out of observable distance, then stands up to find a proper meal for the night.

 _Lucky for me, it just came walking down the street_.

Before his meal can make its way to harass the lone woman at the bus stop, he grabs the inebriated man by the scruff of his neck and pulls him into the forest, making quick work of the actual process. Then, for good measure, Demetri makes his way to a good distance in the forest - not enough for the authorities to suspect foul play, just enough for other natural predators to have their way with it - and mangles the body in a pattern not out of a wolf attack.

And then he leaves.


	2. An Animal?

_**She'd only read about that sort of stuff on tumblr**_.

It isn't the kind of thing Sophia expects to see to happen to herself - some kindly stranger offers consolation and doesn't turn out to be a serial killer. She'd heeded his words - had gone straight home, had an entire pizza as she watched Brooklyn Nine Nine and discarded the pills she had been hoarding for that moment, feeling cowardly to take the step after all the trouble that kind man had gone through in talking her through it. _Had he sensed what was going on, or was he just being nice in general?_ She doesn't know which it was, but Sophia is grateful for the guy and his words nevertheless.

Now, in the morning with a calming cup of tea and the morning news playing on her television screen, she feels a lot better and put together, and a little proud of herself too. Her breakfast of waffles is going to be ready in a few minutes, and she sits down on the sofa, watching the news as she waits for the machine's beeps.

"And now, the local news," the anchor begins, "the body of a local student has been found in the forest by a college dorm. The student, identified as Mason Dwyer, appears to have been prey to what seems like wolves." The view switches to the cameraman and reporter on ground, last night's tennis courts serving as their backdrop, and her stomach drops.

"I'm standing here with Cambridge's chief of police, Captain Adam Stellman. Captain, how and when did you find the body?" The man in question turns to look grimly at the reporter, leaning forward to be audible.

"His friends reported him missing, and his last known location was a block away from his residential complex, so we canvassed the surrounding areas. Somewhere along the trail, we recovered his wallet and decided to take the search deeper into the woods. Our hound smelled the remaining blood a good distance, and we followed the scent to the site of discovery."

"Remaining blood?"

"The body had been drained of close to 70% of its blood."

"If you are liberty to discuss, could you tell us the condition the body was found in?"

"Well, there are bite marks in quite a few places across the body, which itself has been mangled in patterns similar to a wolf's. Though it is rare for the animals to venture this close to civilisation, it is not implausible and we advise all residents to take great care to avoid the woods at all costs until the forest rangers assure us that the rogue animal has been contained."

"Thank you Captain," the man nods in reply, "with cameraman Ben Lowenthal, I am Eric Stanley for NBC Cambridge, Massachusetts."

Animal?

She's been at this college for the past four years, and never once have they heard of a wolf or such wild animals wandering this close to campus. A shiver runs down her spine as she thinks of the tennis courts in the footage, the same spot she had been at yesterday. That was where Mason Dwyer was last scene, from where just metres away, a wolf had been prowling for prey. But wolf don't hunt for sport.

The news report hadn't exactly mentioned whether parts of the body had been eaten away or not, but they said that attack patterns match a wolf's. A wolf would not attack a human unless they were a threat, and a wolf would never _drain_ a body of its blood.

Anyhow, she's not a complete nut to go chasing this unknown threat - animal or not - and she'll listen to the police's recommendations and warnings and stay the hell away from that spot until the all clear is issued. _Thank you, stranger who told me to leave_. She doesn't know his name, nor has she ever seen him around the campus, but she hopes that wherever that guy is, he's doing well and is safe. She indirectly owes him one.

A shrill beep tells her that the waffles are done, and she munches down on the chocolate chip laced treat, eyes trained on the NBC channel for any more information on this strange case.

It's a Saturday and the beginning of Fall Break, so most people will be gone for a week, and this also means that she has a week to work further on her thesis without any added coursework on her head. The thought makes her smile, and she packs her bag with the necessary provisions to head to the Starbucks in the nearest library.

The sky is overcast and looks like it will rain, so she keeps the umbrella in her hand, taking in her quiet surroundings and cool air and just relaxing in the overall vibe that today's weather provides. As the library comes within sight, Sophia notices that the building is mostly empty of patrons - what else was she expecting? - and quickly nabs a window seat in the Starbucks. Like most coffee shops on campus, it isn't quick to kick her out, but it has a better view than most so she frequents it more than the others.

Two hours pass productively, but now she's a little thirsty and desperately wanting to check her tumblr, so she pulls up a new browser window that is blessedly devoid of tabs relating to wing designs and heads over to the menu, peering at the specials.

"I'd say a hot hazelnut would be the way to go for today," the barista suggests with a smile. "But the peppermint frappe is a great alternative if you're someone who prefers the cold ones." She returns the barista's smile, then orders the latter and returns back to her seat five minutes later, hand wet with condensation from the drink. When Sophia looks at the clock again, an hour has passed, she's 20 percent through her drink, and she really needs to get back to her previous work.

The process is repeated twice, and by then the sky has darkened considerably, and the barista is winding up operations on his side. So she packs up her stuff and heads out in the direction of her apartment, the walk slightly misty but fun due to the drizzle. There's a nice set of old Star Wars comics that's been sold at the bookstore she passes, and in the rain-streaked glass she catches a reflection of the man from last night.

To his credit, he doesn't ignore her - instead, he smiles and makes his way over to her; for some reason, it feels like he was almost _waiting_ there for her. Now in the twilight, she can properly look at his clothing - he's dressed immaculately in a long dark grey trench coat and black pants, a white shirt providing a stark contrast to the otherwise dark colour profile of his clothing. "Hey," she offers a smile, fiddling with the lint in her hoodie pocket, "uh, thanks, for last night. You, uh, saved my life in more ways than one."

"I was just helping out a person in need."

"That's not what most people do," she murmurs, looking down at the wet pavement. "Anyhow," Sophia raises her voice to be audible, "I was wondering if I've ever seen you around on campus. Are you a student?"

"Started my masters in psychology and classics this semester."

"Cool cool cool." He glances at the shut umbrella in her hand, an amused look playing across his face. "I like walking in the drizzle," she explains.

"You could fall sick, you know."

"But I haven't so far, so Drizzle 0, Sophia 1." Oh shit - she just let her name slip, and she has no idea what his is. _Well, someone had to do it - might as well be me._ "What's your name?"

"Demetri." He is, by no doubt, one of the most uniquely named people she has met.

"Because I'm curious," she adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder, "I want to know exactly what the etymology behind your name is."

"And I will tell you," he replies, "provided we move to a drier location."

"Well, there is a nice coffee shop nearby - beware, it is mostly populated by hipsters and people with an indie grunge aesthetic." At that, Demetri laughs - his voice is rich and slightly deep and for some reason super comforting; he could be reading an Ikea manual and that would ease her anxiety.

"I'm sure I'll survive."


	3. Fleetwood Diner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters will now be more infrequent, but they will also be longer. Hope you guys like this :D

_**There are lesser hipsters than he expected**_.

Demetri was just in town to check in on the Cullens - as per Aro's wishes, Carlisle and his gold eyed coven merited a visit from one of the senior most member of the Guard. More importantly, it was about the child.

He'd tracked eight of them (Bella still elusive to his talents, damn that woman) to the college town of Cambridge, Massachusetts. The Cullens had enrolled themselves as students here at Harvard, with Carlisle studying medicine all over again. _They truly go the extra mile for blending in with the humans_. And now he's here, accompanying a human he had contemplated killing for food eighteen hours back. To coffee.

Thanks to Fall Break, most students have left town and gone home, so the place is mercifully empty, Sophia (he has now learned) steering them towards a table at the back. _Gods, I hope this human doesn't think it's a date_. She's cute, pretty even, in the right clothes, but he has no interest in pursuing a dalliance with this one right now.

"Sorry, I don't really like sitting near windows - I just don't like being in a position where people can gawk at me," she offers an explanation for her seating choice, sliding onto the faux-leather clad booth seats.

"I understand - I don't like being in a public spot much either." The server comes over to them, the man looking at him appreciatively before offering them both courteous nods.

"Anything you guys want?"

"Can I get a Euro decaf standard, black, and a pain au chocolat?" She answers without looking, and the server turns to him.

"Same drink as the lady, nothing else." The man leaves with a quick "I'll be back soon", Sophia putting her phone back in her bag.

"So," she begins, leaning back, "the meaning behind the name."

"It directly translates to 'of Demeter'."

"Your parents great fans of the classics?" He grins crookedly at that one.

"Kind of."

"Kind of?" _So she's a tenacious one_ \- his charm usually throws humans off their rhythm, but she seems dedicated and rather dogged in her pursuit, so he decides to humour her.

"They taught Greek history and mythology back home."

Her face lights up. "Are you actually from Greece?" He is, but he isn't about to tell her that.

"Britain, but my grandparents immigrated from Greece, so yes, but ethnicity, I suppose I am."

"That does explain your curious accent," she nods, head perking up as she spots someone - he wagers it's the server. And it is, the man depositing their orders at the table.

"I've travelled the world quite often in my youth - spent my infancy back in Britain, childhood in Greece, was schooled back home in England and spent summers with my grandparents in Italy. Now I'm here, studying in the US."

She dramatically exhales in response, taking a sip of her coffee. He does the same, the liquid passing without offense. Unlike solid food, fluids don't pose much problems to his body, venom swiftly burning them away. "Quite the upbringing. Did you complete your undergrad here?" He shakes his head.

"Back home."

"Cool cool cool." He notices the slightly shorter attention span of his companion, her focus now on drawing abstract geometric patterns on the napkins with a ball pen.

"Sophia is a Greek name as well."

"Yeah, means wisdom, I know," she says after finishing her mouthful of pastry, "it's my maternal grandma's middle name." He has no idea why he agreed to this meeting with this girl - if he has no romantic inclinations towards her as he would towards a mate, he has absolutely no reason to hang around. _It would be rude to leave in the middle, so might as well stick through this._ And he is still here and is curious to know more about her, so there has to be a reason why. Given that vampires only mate once in their existence, it's hard for him to accurately gauge whether his interest in her is that of one towards their mate, or just casual curiosity.

There's a song playing in the background that he quite likes, so he decides to use that to further their conversation. "Do you know what song this is?"

"I have heard this somewhere." Her face scrunches up in concentration before she arrives on an answer. "It's 'Flawless' by The Neighbourhood."

"They sound good."

"It's definitely addictive in its own way. What is your musical poison?"

Given the amount of free time he has had over the centuries, Demetri has developed a rather eclectic taste in just about everything. He has been taken with Queen's music for the better part of the last 30 years, but there are some other bands which have caught his fancy as well. "I'm a Freddie Mercury man through and through, but I like Fleetwood Mac and Coldplay just as well."

"Nice! I like those as well, but I definitely spend a good chunk of my time listening to film scores, Florence & The Machine and whatever artist catches my fancy at the moment."

"And which artist has your attention as of now?" He leans a little forward, taking her aback - _so this wasn't a date for the lady._ Or she just didn't expect him to show interest this early, not that he actually is. He's just figuring out why he's still here talking to someone he expressly ordered to leave his vicinity if they wanted to live the previous night.

"Well, Florence has a new album out right now, so I'm listening to that quite often. And I will probably go back and listen to more of The Neighbourhood again. Speaking of home," she craned her neck to look out, "I should be getting back. The sole reason I left the library was because it was getting late, and I got sidetracked like always."

"I apologise for keeping you from anything you had scheduled."

She waves her hand dismissively, draining her drink. "I had jack shit scheduled - I would have just rewatched Brooklyn Nine Nine." _A commonality_.

"So glad the show didn't get cancelled - I need to know if Holt becomes commissioner."

Her entire face lights up hearing that sentence - she is practically beaming at him. "You're a B99 stan?"

"I like the show quite a bit, yes."

"Well, that brings you like a good five steps closer to being my friend now." That is quite the curious metric to measure the formation of a friendship, and the slightly juvenile, innocent nature of the statement makes him smile.

"And how far am I from the finish line?"

"Like, three or so steps away." The server approaches them, studying the two of them, looking for clues regarding their relationship status, Demetri guesses.

"Would you like the bill, guys?"

"Sure," he withdraws a card from his wallet, the two of them heading towards the counter.

"The total will be $10.84," the cashier informs him, and he passes his card, only to be stopped by the lady beside him. She is looking at him with mild disapproval.

"I'll pay my fair share - I did ask you to explain all that."

"And I did keep you from getting home earlier."

"It's not a date, you don't need to pay for me. And even if it was, I wouldn't let you," she says at a volume only audible to the two of them, the cashier busy organising the many tins of tea that adorned the wall behind the counter.

"All right. But do let me walk you home, because it isn't exactly safe at this hour." They pay their respective bills, stepping out in the cool, misty air.

"I can take care of myself," she digs her hands in the hoodie pocket. "And my apartment is like a short ten minute walk from here, so I'll be good."

"We have a better chance together against a wolf, rather than just alone." She regards him with a critical stare, finally agreeing with a nod. He follows the lady's lead, the two walking in silence, his eyes trained on the road ahead.

That is until police sirens race past them, heading towards the woods.

* * *

_**Her first instinct was to head straight home**_.

Her companion seemed to be on edge too, and the two of them began walking faster towards their destination. They were only a good two blocks away when her phone rang, breaking the tenuous silence of the night. In such a situation, she would have ignored most calls, but seeing 'Campus Police' on one's screen is enough to make a person pick up their phone in the midst of what constitutes as a scary situation.

"Hello?"

"Are you Sophia Summers?"

"Yes."

"Are you well-acquainted with a Miss Gemma Atherton?" Her stomach drops, that funny feeling of the anticipation of something really bad taking over her.

"Yeah," she gulps, fighting to keep the fear down.

"We need you to come and identify a body." The sentence takes all the wind out of her, and her phone leves her hand, clattering to the ground. Demetri's face is alert, eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"I need to go to the police station," she gulps harder, fighting to keep the bile from rising in her throat, "to identify a body."

"My car's nearby." She just nods as he leaves her side, the purr of an engine following in the next five minutes. He gently guide her towards the passenger seat, and she simply curls up in the plush leather, mind still trying to piece together everything. He doesn't push her for any details, which she's thankful for, and they come to stop in front of the police station, police cars dotting the front of the building. "If you don't want me to come in, I'll just wait here." As of now, she would rather not.

"You should go home. The police will escort me back home." He nods, passing her a small slip of paper.

"Call me if you need any further assistance." She nods in reply, mutely pocketing the piece of paper before heading in - a look back, and she sees the man driving off into the night. _Maybe letting him go without a police escort was a bad idea_. But he looks like someone who would be able to take care of themselves.

 _Not against a wolf or serial killer, you dumbass_.

"You're Sophia Summers?" A police officer inquires, motioning her to sit down. Feeling like her legs might give way, she takes the offer, setting down in the seat. "How do you know Gemma?"

"She studies Physics here, and she's been my friend since junior year of undergrad."

"A body was found at the edge of the woods - and it appears to have been drained of blood. Since there was no ID and you were the emergency contact listed in her information, we called you in to identify the body."

She nods, clamping her mouth shut lest she throw up on the table. The officer notes her distress and directs towards the closest bathroom, where she promptly throws up in the nearest toilet bowl. She doesn't know how much time passes until the officer fetches her, but she is directed to a police car.

"The body is at Boston PD's ME lab, so we will be required to drive you back and forth from the location." She nods, taking her seat in the back of the vehicle and trying very hard not to think of anything at that point. It's not a long drive, and the scene at the lab is a little too quiet for her liking. There should be more cars, more chaos, right? A person was murdered.

Her friend.

The cops lead her down a narrow, plain corridor lined with doors opening into similarly stark rooms, the three of them entering the last one in the row. The morgue is sharply lit, instruments neatly lined up in a tray next to the body currently outside. They lift the cover, and her friend's face is very clearly visible to her - impish features contorted into those of horror, face drained of blood. With shaking hands, she moves the cover below her neck, revealing a mess of torn, bloody muscles and bone.

The sight is officially too much for Sophia, and she turns and pukes once again into the trash bin right next to the body, crouching over the receptacle and heaving all that remains in her. After a point, there simply is nothing left to spill out, and she sits there, dry-retching until it feels like she can stand. Very carefully, she makes sure not to look at the body as she rises to her feet.

"That's her," she forces out, voice scratchy.

"I'm so sorry for you loss, ma'am," one of them says, leading her out out of the room and into the brightly lit reception. She sits there for a while until the officers request her to supply them with her home address so they can drop her, and she writes it down with a shaking hand. Her mind is a fog of confusion and shock until she gets home, and after a few minutes of listlessly lying in the dark, her stomach decides to revolt again and she rushes to the washroom. Even though she knows nothing will come up, she goes through the motions anyways.

 _If only this could purge everything out of my brain_.

Gemma's face swims in front of her eyes - alive and vibrant, all backhanded compliments and witty banter. She is ambitious and hardworking and a dreamer, and _she can't be dead_. But she is, and at the hands of some wild creature who somehow got her at the edge of the forest. As of now, that is all her mind feels fit to comprehend, and she stares blankly at the ceiling until sleep claims her.

Those few hours of unconsciousness are not easy or comforting, however, as she wakes from a dream involving the bloody, mangled corpse of her friend, a shadowy entity and her, running for her life from said thing.

Sophia looks around, the cool blue lighting of the room putting her to some ease. The clock on the nightstand reads 1240 hours, and she somehow makes her way to the kitchen with her jelly legs and puts on a cup of coffee. Her hands instinctively move towards her hoodie pocket, left hand closing upon a scrap of paper.

 _Demetri_.

The man was sensible enough to leave when she asked him to, but she's scared if the thing that killed Gemma might have taken him too, so she punches in the numbers and puts it on speaker, foot tapping impatiently against the ground while the ring goes unanswered.

"Hello?" His voice fills her with relief - _good, he's alive_ \- and her worry must be plain in her tone because of his following statement. "I'm fine. How are you holding up? You sound rattled."

"Well, I just saw a mangled dead body less than a day back."

"I am so sorry," the concern in his voice is genuine. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I'd say just stay in your house and don't leave until you need to, because whatever thing killed her got her at the edge of the forest."

Eventually, the news report covers this as well, and Sophia has to physically stop herself from bolting out of the room as she checks for any new developments. The chief of Cambridge PD and the captain of the precinct jointly investigating say that it was the same animal that killed Dwyer. But her friend is not the kind of person who willingly goes into forests and that has been bugging her ever since she heard them say it. They do mention that this could be the work of a serial killer, but the method of killing, patterns of wounds and choice of victims is too random and violent for this to be the work of a human, they add.

"Sophia, are you still there?" _Shit, I hadn't disconnected_.

"Sorry, I'm just really -"

"Shaken and distraught?" He offers, sparing her the trouble of finding the right words to fit her harebrained state.

"Yeah."

"I would be worried if you were not. Please contact me if you ever feel like the situation is being too much for you, or if you feel like you need a listening ear." _He is good at the latter, I guess_. At that, they bid adieu and she is left alone, with her thoughts and the news stream.

 _Nothing about this seems to add up_. She is going to find out what is wrong, and she is going to do it without getting killed in the process.


	4. A New Assignment

_**He has to report this back**_.

If this is what he thinks he this is, Demetri has to report this incident back and let the masters give him the green light. He knows what they will say - terminate the troublemaker and prevent discovery.

Sophia's descriptions fit the requirements, but to ascertain that this is a vampire attack, he will have to take a good look at the body first. His plan is to wait till midnight and with the facility at minimal staff, inspect the body and leave. Any remaining blood will have fully dried up, so he will have no trouble leaving without incident.

He picks up the phone, the call quickly passing through an Italian tele-operator and to the front desk. "Ciao, questa è la reception. Come posso aiutarti?" It's good to know that the voice on the other end isn't new, because he doesn't have the time to acquaint himself with a new one.

"Ciao, Mia. Informa i maestri che arriverò fra due giorni."

"Lo farò immediatamente. Non vedono l'ora di rivederti," she replies without losing a beat, and he picks up a black bag and stuffs them with the essentials, booking a taxi for the following day. The ticket is discreetly booked, and he checks his passport twice before entering the passenger name.

He does have over 12 hours to collect more intel on the situation, but the sun is out and shining, and that immediately dashes any plans he had of visiting the police station. The rest of the day is spent oscillating between reading and watching Netflix, the latter being one of the few human indulgences of this century he can actually enjoy. He is currently watching an episode of the first season of the Crown, having started the show only hours back, and some of the drama in the royal household is reminiscent of the one he comes from, Demetri smiling at the similarities between Mary of Teck and Caius.

A quick glance at the clock tells him that midnight is near, and he slinks out of the apartment complex and towards the parking lot, the car's engine quiet enough to not draw any spectators towards it. The drive towards Boston is uneventful and the building has the usual amount of people he expects would be on the graveyard shift.

He parks in good cover, taking care to not be noticed by any nearby cameras. Once the car is well hidden, he takes off for the morgue, using his senses to guide him to cold, sterile room filled with the dead.

A toe tag on the body outside informs him that this is Gemma Atherton's body - the same name he had heard through Sophia's phone. Silently lifting the sheet covering the unfortunate victim, he finds the signs of something similar to a vampire attack, yet the smell is something different. It intensifies as the moments pass and Demetri almost gags from a minute into his investigation.

It's clearly not a human, but the beast doesn't seem to be a vampire either. The neck of the victim has been torn far too much, and parts have been eaten away. The body's blood seems to have been drained, but apart from that there is flesh and bone that has been torn away too.

The smell is wolflike in nature, but not the same scent that cloaks the shapeshifters. It's more feral, more animal.

_My visit to Volterra couldn't come at a better time_.

* * *

The flight, like always, is uneventful and boring. He watches some inane movie as he mulls over the facts collected around this case, a part of him deeply frustrated at his inability to identify and track this creature. It is clear he has never come across them, but to not know what kind they are is a whole new form of frustration altogether.

Upon his arrival, Mia gives him a curt smile and hands him a note with Corin's name on top. He knows it's not a terrible matter of urgency if the tiny woman left a note instead of a voice call, so he stuffs it in his pocket and heads toward the throne room.

The Masters are busy in idle chatter, Aro giving him a beatific smile as he takes his place in the center of room, a bow accorded to each of the three men before he ungloves his hand, putting it forward for Aro to take.

His master completes his search, face cycling through a variety of emotions before he decides to speak. "Young Demetri, your thoughts never fail to intrigue me. Anything you wish to add in your report of the Cullens?"

"Nothing, master. The child has completed her turn to immortal and is fully vampire now, though it is unclear if the issue that plagues Nahuel's sisters persists with her as well."

"I don't suppose Carlisle would mind sending us his findings," Aro muses, Demetri covering his fingers once again. "There is much we have yet to learn about charming Renesmee's kind. But, to more pressing matters now," his expression changes, eyes darkening as he begins to pace about the chamber. "The threat that Demetri has discovered - this creature plaguing the city of Cambridge; are you certain the threat is not vampiric?"

"Absolutely, master. If it weren't for the bite marks and mutilation patterns, the smell certainly confirmed it." Whatever it is, he has never seen one in his existence.

"Wolflike, you say, dear Demetri?"

"Yes, Master." Hearing that makes Caius' countenance slips further into a scowl.

"Do you suppose it could be them, brother?" Marcus speaks, voicing what was clearly going on in Caius' mind because the recognition of that notion clearly makes the man angrier than before.

"We had wiped their filth off the face of the Earth!" He snaps. "I saw to it myself." Through all this, Demetri is well aware of protocol - let the brothers work it out, and do not leave until they bid you to do so. Usually it takes a few hours, maybe a day or two.

This time, they seem to take much longer.

"My dear Caius, it seems like all other options are void," Aro finally breaks the tension, a grim look upon the otherwise oddly cheerful man's face. "The account is proof that a Children of the Moon hunts with reckless abandon." The mention of the near-mythic lupines sends Caius into a greater ire than before, his eyes flashing as he tightens his grip upon the armrests of his throne. "I do not intend to lose my greatest tracker to a feral dog," Aro speaks after a pause, turning to him. "Take Felix, Jane and Alec with you - and bring back the creature's body when all is done. I want you to take on this assignment with great caution."

"Yes, Master." With a final bow to the trio, he leaves the chamber and prepares for his imminent departure, instructing Mia to make the necessary bookings as he heads off to instruct the others tasked with this, reading the note along the way.

The first to greet him is the Roman, his impish smile a welcome break from the dour proceeding he has just left. "I suppose you received Corin's reminder?" As Felix notes Demetri not stopping, the large man falls in stride and walks along with him.

"I'm afraid we have no time for that yet, Felix. The masters have tasked us with a mission - one that is fraught with a degree of uncertainty and danger not present in our previous ones."

"Could it possibly be worse than the Immortal Children?"

That he can't immediately say 'no' as an answer worries him a little.

* * *

_**TV straight up lies when it comes to private detectives**_.

First off, it's hard to sneak around and collect critical information when the entire town is on high alert because of two strange, horrific murders. Second, it's just hard to sneak around and collect information in general.

Massachusetts has rather finicky laws when it comes to release of information to journalists - well, she is a _student_ journalist and works for the Harvard Crimson, but that doesn't make her any less of a journalist. She has the same editorial rights as journalists of any media house, only a lot less pull in the inner offices and circles. Currently, she's arguing over the phone with quite a fed-up receptionist, trying to find loopholes in a bunch of laws she isn't well versed with. But that doesn't pan out so well, so the plan shifts to the good old badgering and bribing people.

Her bag is packed for the mission - a couple of granola bars, a power bank, fully charged phone and laptop with their respective chargers, pepper spray and a pocket knife. She knows the latter two wouldn't be great help against any animal, but they will surely work on any human attacker. Ten days have passed since the incident, and there have been no further, but that just makes her even more wary.

The first stop is Gemma's ex-boyfriend.

He lives in Boston, and the two had an on-off relationship. She would often party with the man, after which they would promptly fight and sometimes make up. Given the frequency with which her friend hung out with him, it's as good a guess as any that he would be the last person to have seen her alive. He agrees to meet up at a nearby bagel place, and Sophia gets a table closer to the walls and away from prying ears and eyes.

"Jason." They shake hands, and he orders a six-shot espresso, wild-eyed and frizzy haired. She takes out a notebook and pen and he takes a swig of his drink, lightly slamming down his drink as an indication of readiness.

"Haven't slept properly since the news broke. I learnt through fucking Facebook, of all places."

"So you weren't there with her when that happened?"

"Okay, so I met this new girl on Tinder, and there had been no indication from Gemma from the past few weeks that anything could happen between us again, so I agreed to go on a date with her that night. Downtown Boston, we went to the theater, caught a movie, nothing happened as such between us. I come back, get drunk, message Gemma again - pretty sure I sent some sap crap like I how I really wanted her back and shit - she doesn't answer; I guess she was serious about the stability thing, just send her "friends still?" message and go to sleep. Next thing I know when I check my phone, there are condolences posted all over her fucking timeline. Fucking hell." A sip, then a look at her. "How did you find out?"

Her fingers curl tightly over the pen, the other hand clenched in a tight fist. "I was called to ID the body." At that, he grimaces, shaking his head.

"That must have been fucked up." She doesn't want to recount that anytime soon, so she simply shakes her head and silently counts to ten, willing her mind to stay on topic.

"Anyone you know that would have been with her that night? They found her near the forest edge, and that itself is dodgy because you know she's no fan of the wilderness."

"None. And I agree - that is super sketchy."

"No guy she told you about? I thought you guys were still friends."

"We are - or at least were. This was something she said she was still figuring out, and it would be better if this was her solo endeavour. Best I can tell you, scroll through her Facebook friend list, once you have the stomach to." They sit in silence for a few minutes after that, Sophia going over her notes and Jason putting on a pair of shades to hide his strained eyes. "They're sure it's an animal attack, Sophia - why the fuck are you doing this?"

"Something's off and I want to know what, and as corny and dumb as it sounds, I want closure."

"Permanent closure, that's what you're gonna get," he grumbles, gulping down the rest of the coffee. "Look, something rabid and ferocious mauled her, and I would prefer it that I know one less person who suffers that fate." She understands where he's coming from, but that does not make the situation any clearer for her.

"So you're gonna believe that a fucking crazy-ass animal mauled a woman at the edge of the forest so close to human civilisation that they would be spotted. That a woman who hates the wild would be there, alone."

"Humans can be just as rabid and ferocious as any feral animal, and it would be a mark of true foolhardiness rather than bravery if you were to choose to walk into their path. As for finding out what it is, leave it to law enforcement. You won't find out anything anyways if you die before that happens."

"Believe me," she sighs, stuffing her notebook and pen back in her bag, "I've had just the same thoughts before I started off on this."

He lifts his shades, looking at her with weariness and worry. "Then you're even crazier than I thought. I hope I see you later. Alive." With that he makes his exit, Sophia heading to her next destination - the police station.

While Boston PD has zero intentions to give her any answers, she hopes that the campus and town's police would have a little more inclination to share information with a community member. She walks the distance from the bagel place to the station, Crimson ID in the front pocket of her bag. She doesn't notice who she bumps shoulders with until they call out her name. "Demetri."

"Are you alright?"

"Shaken, yes. Mentally fucked up, for sure. Alright, nope." His dark eyes narrow, and she now notices that they are a peculiar shade of brown - a mix she quite cannot place.

"What are you doing here, then? Did they request you to come in?" He jabs a thumb at the station building. She shakes her head, adjusting the bag straps on her shoulders. "You have questions." She nods.

"I promised myself that I won't get killed in the process, but that doesn't mean I'm completely swearing off taking risks in order to find what took my friend, because it sure as fuck was not a wild animal. How on Earth could a police patrol miss an animal they were supposed to be on the lookout for? And my friend hates forests and would never willingly go to one alone."

"Your reasoning is sound, and I don't know enough about predatory animals to offer evidence to the contrary."

That's all well and good, but there is a small detail bugging her. "You went MIA for more than a week. What are you doing here now?"

"Mother called me back - family emergency. And I was passing by, going back to my apartment." Bullshit.

"And that path happens to go through a small path that leads to a police station? Don't lie to me, please."

"Fine," he relents. "I wanted to get to the bottom of this."

"But you don't have any connections to the either of the deceased, do you? As far as I know, you never knew Gemma."

"I knew Mason Dwyer." She doesn't know how true that is but she doesn't push further on it. If he had any ulterior motives regarding her, he had plenty of chances to carry them out by now.

"Okay. Where do we start?"

"There is a press conference that's about to happen soon - we can crash it."

Her face twists into a frown. "You don't work for the Crimson."

At that, he gives her a wicked smile. "But you do." Her mind quickly scrambles to find as to how he might possibly know that, before realising that the Crimson puts pictures of their editorial staff and journalists along with their names in the 'Who We Are' section. _Great_.

"All right then," she sighs, squaring her shoulders, "let's go crash a press conference."


	5. A Little Flattery Goes A Long Way

_**Humans are so easily dazzled.** _

The receptionist looks a little mad first seeing them, but a quick lean over her desk and the use of his 'convincing' voice and they are in, the woman slightly flustered as she lets them through. His investigative partner looks more baffled than anything else, shaking her head as they walk past.

The room is packed with journalists from all forms of media, some obsessively checking over their recorders, some testing out their pens. Sophia pulls out her phone and a notepad, fishing in her bag for a pen, he presumes. "Got it," she mutters, taking one of the few remaining seats at the back. For human pretense, he pulls out a recorder of his own, priming the gadget before he has to hit play.

The Captain begins with some opening remarks, moving on to discuss the particulars of the case. A hand in front darts up. "Captain Stellman, are the two incidents connected?"

"All evidence points towards it," he answers.

There is plenty of clamouring, and the lady beside the Captain points at another reporter, who stands up. "Captain, are we to believe that a wild animal snatched another victim from a place so heavily under police patrol? No one noticed a huge predatory wolf take a person?" Sophia's ears perk up, fingers poised on the legal pad, ready to go.

He can see the tension on the man's brow, because the Captain knows in his heart the answer is no. "That is what the evidence points to. Autopsy reports confirm that both victims lost almost 60-70% of their blood to the attacker. Portions of the victims' flesh have been torn away in a manner that indicates the attacker might have eaten them, leading us to further believe that these are not homicides. As for the surveillance angle, officers reported no sign of any unusual activity that night."

"Is there any other motive you have been looking into? Did the victims know each other?"

"Until now we have found no proof that the two victims knew each other in any capacity, but we are still looking into that aspect, and questioning is underway. As for motive, this specific type of incident has never occured in MA history, so assigning motive to it seems rather presumptuous." That seems to satisfy the inquirer, and they sit down. There are some questions asked around regarding a more general spate of crime across the state and it doesn't really pertain the current issue, but the captain is more than glad to have the focus diverted.

"That will be all for today. Thank you for coming," the police PR rep dismisses the reporter, his companion rising to leave.

"Well, that was quite a bit of information." They walk out into the porch of the police station, rain coming down in sheets now. Sophia swears, searching her bag for an umbrella to no avail.

"Take mine," he pushes the one in his hand. "You're carrying electronic gadgets and sensitive information." _You're human_ is one he doesn't add but has factored into consideration anyways. She doesn't protest, taking it.

"How far is your place from here? We need to get somewhere dry soon." She cannot show up at his dwelling, not when three more vampires are visiting it and will be more than happy to devour her for brunch.

"It's quite a distance. How far is yours?"

"Not very far, honestly. We can get there in like 10 minutes walking. Wait, don't you own a car?" And there's the question he was expecting.

"My cousins are in town and took it for some urgent business. So here I am, sans car. Believe me, unlike you I have no fondness for gamboling in the wet." She cracks a smile at that and they begin their journey.

"It's not 'gamboling in the wet', as you put it. I like walking in drizzles, not downpours like this."

By the time they reach her apartment, he is fully soaked in rainwater, shoes squelching on the tiled floor. She points him to the washroom, where he takes off his coat, shoes and socks, lining up the articles neatly by the shower wall. His shirt and pants stick annoyingly to him, so he discards those as well, stepping out with a towel around his waist to find his host seated in a chair, typing away.

She looks up, and it pleases him to see that his natural beauty isn't fully wasted on her as her eyebrows go up, eyes widening. "Did someone carve you out of marble?" _Humans love statue metaphors, don't they_.

"Gifted with the right genes, to be more precise. Are there any dry clothes I can change in?" She points to a folded pile in answer, attention back to the laptop. "I do not think your beau would be too pleased to find a stranger in his clothing."

"It's mine. I buy men's clothes for sleepwear because that stuff's roomier and has pockets," she answers, not looking away from the screen. He takes them and heads back to the bathroom and he notes that they smell overwhelmingly of pine and the unique scent that each human carries like a signature on them, and he finds that he quite likes the combination.

Once sufficiently clothed, Demetri makes his way back to the living room where a steaming cup of tea awaits him. "What do we have?" He throws out, and she looks up, staring into space for a while before focusing her stare on her cup.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, what we have. Yeah, okay," she looks back at the screen. "So they believe the two incidents are connected, which I agree with, but there's the whole part regarding the fact that they still believe this is an animal-related incident. And my biggest question is still going unanswered."

"How your friend was taken without being noticed." This is the fourth time in thirteen days that he's hearing some form of it.

"Yeah - it's just so improbable I would rather believe someone who told me that a werewolf did this." He can't tell her just how on the mark she is. "At least in that case I could understand how the accused took her to the site of the crime." She looks back at her notes, squinting at her notepad. "It looks like we've hit a dead end on the information side of things. All that's left is sleuthing on site, and I'm not doing that without some form of security or guaranteed safety." It would be very foolish, not to mention a waste of the time he saved her life. Sophia starts pacing around the living room, occasionally staring out at the storm, which has worsened. "It's gotten worse," she notes, looking at him. "You could stay here until it dies down, if you want to, maybe call your cousins and ask them to drop your car over."

Right, his cousins. _Or just Felix in this case_.

"They plan to return by tomorrow, so I'll just walk back when this settles down." She nods back at him, continuing her furtive pace. The rest of the day passes in him idly swiping through the TV channels, finally settling down on the Food Network.

"Where's your phone?" He looks away from Guy Fieri eating another giant hotdog, mind racing to find a decent solution.

"I left it at home cause it was dead," he makes a sheepish face, rubbing his neck for effect. "I forgot to charge it the previous night." His embarrassed face is apparently convincing enough, because she scrunches her nose in apparent annoyance and glares lightly at him.

"I barely know you, but the last thing I'd like is to get to know that you're dead, all because you couldn't call the cops or 911 because your phone was dead." _Well, that would never happen_.

"Your concern is touching," he smoothly replies.

Once the weather stabilises, Demetri goes to the bathroom to find his clothes significantly drier than before, but not dry enough to go out in. He has half a mind to ask her to let him keep the clothes he's currently wearing when Sophia knocks upon the open door.

"They've announced a curfew starting tonight, and it's already pretty late, so I could call a cop car to escort you back, if you want. If you want to stay, I really wouldn't mind that either. Safety first, you know, and I'd be a hypocrite not to let you stay after that whole spiel." That is an uncommonly kind gesture, especially since it comes without any vested interest from her end.

And he lets her know that. "That is really nice of you."

"Like I said, safety first." There's a slightly awkward pause. "So, you're staying then, I guess?" He nods. "Cool - I'm making dinner, so any religious restrictions, any dietary ones I should be wary of?"

"None, actually." Especially since he'll be quietly regurgitating it all later.

"Great! So, um, it will be ready in like half an hour." With that, she makes her exit, leaving him to tend to his damp clothes.

* * *

_**Turns out, Italian was the perfect choice** _ **.**

There's salmon that she's just bought and enough stuff to quickly whip up a spicy eggplant tomato sauce, plus a sealed in-date box of pasta. She connects her phone to the tiny bluetooth speaker sitting on the kitchen island, putting on Florence and the Machine as she begins meal prep for the sauce and puts the salmon in the water for a quick thaw.

As the song changes, so does the salmon's location as it finds its way to the sizzling pan. The pasta bubbles away merrily on one end while she carefully sears both sides of the fish, doing her best not to break the filets. There's a small victory fist pump as the fish makes it way to the plate and the sauce is neatly transferred into bowls. The pasta done, she quickly plates the stuff and puts it on the table, turning back to the sink to wash the dishes and her slightly sweaty face.

"Do you all your guests get such special treatment?" Demetri gives the two plates an appraising look, and there is a small surge of pride in her chest at a job well done.

"Yep, I love to cook." Once seated, her attention is only at her food as she guzzles down the decent quantity of food on her plate, groaning slightly as the carbs hit her system. The rest of the meal passes in idle chatter - mostly about TV - and by the time she finishes her tea, the exhaustion is finally beginning to show. Her guest seems to have picked up on that, because Demetri shoots her a kindly smile and offers to clean up.

"I'll do it," she mumbles as he good-naturedly directs her to the bedroom, his oddly cool hands soothing her warm body. "Seriously, you're a guest, you shouldn't."

"And you might fall asleep at the kitchen sink, so I suggest you sleep, and I clean up." And she would have argued further if her body hadn't betrayed her and eagerly wiggled into bed. As her head hit the pillow, she found her mind unfocusing, eagerly entering sleepyland.

A strange dream involving a wolf, Gemma and her wakes her up in a thin layer of sweat; her comforter is tangled all around her, and Sophia finds her throat dully aching for water. After a short search for her flip flops, she makes her way to the kitchen, rubbing bleary eyes with her fists. Her mind dimly registers the fact that she has a visitor over, _who I forgot to ask where he would be sleeping_. She finds Demetri draped over the couch, a light blanket covering his form. She makes sure to not disturb him as she gets a bottle from the fridge, then makes her way back to her bed, absently chugging the liquid with half-closed eyes.

The next time she dreams, it involves her strange friend. Demetri is with her in the forest too, an alabaster suit of armor between her and the wolf. The canine regards him, and for some reason walks away, all the time growling angrily. Her sleep quickly breaks, and she shuffles her hand in the sheets to look for her phone to check the time. Her eyes look around the room, and if she isn't mistaken, she had just seen Demetri leaning by her bedroom door, watching her.

02:30, her phone reads, and Sophia whips her head up from the screen to confirm what she had seen before, but he isn't in sight. Walking into the living room reveals that he's still tucked in the couch, blanket curled around his form.

"Fucking dreams," she mutters under her breath, making her way back to the bed and hoping that this time, her sleep doesn't break until daylight.

**Author's Note:**

> Read and comment!


End file.
